


For a song

by penscritch



Series: Wizardess Heart collection [13]
Category: Shall We Date?: Wizardess Heart+
Genre: AU, M/M, Medieval, Pre-Slash, fluff week, merchant family!Elias, minstrel!Luca
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 18:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6020262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penscritch/pseuds/penscritch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For a song

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for fluff week, because I’m terribly behind on writing (and rewriting made me post this a bit later than I wanted). I tried to adhere to most proper medieval history and customs, but I’m going light on the Christianity and Ye Olde Englishe. Also, assume that unlike the proper Medieval Ages, liking guys or girls is totally okay and marriage can happen regardless of gender.
> 
> Some facts: there really was a Court of Love established by Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, where it was a great place to celebrate the arts. She had difficulties with her husband. Troubadours are different from minstrels. The intrigue surrounding nobles and the royal family is ridiculous. And magic doesn’t exist in this ‘verse, of course. XD

Luca liked the smokiness of the tavern, the merry clang of heavy dishes set down on the chipped wood tables, laden with food. Tankards of ale slopped over the sides as men gesticulated in their arguments, laughed and argued. The maids swept around the floor, busy but not unappreciative of the occasional whistle or cocky smirk. It was a kind of homage to them, too.

It was a good tavern. There were worse ones he’d performed in, dirty and sullen. Sometimes he’d had to duck out quickly to avoid a fight between gangs or watch what he sang. Tonight, he could sing just about anything, play just about anything. He plucked a refrain experimentally, grinning when some heads turned in his direction. Good.

The room fell silent when he began, fingers strumming his lute and voice clear in the air. He didn’t need to see to feel what he brought forth. He knew his own abilities and they were not small – his teacher in music had never despaired of his quickness in learning, only of his… creative application.

By the time he finished, it was very late and most had shuffled back home or staggered up the rickety stairs to their rooms. There was a sizable pile of coin in front of him but he wasn’t tired. He hummed, plucked a few experimental notes, and stared at the fire. He wondered if he could fall asleep like this. It wasn’t as if he really needed the coin.

A cough startled him out of his reverie.

“Hmm?” Luca twisted around to see a blond man – about his age, even if he looked touchingly serious – standing there, prim as any young miss.

“I—“ he began, then seemed to get a hold of himself. “You’re very skilled.”

“I am,” Luca said unhesitatingly.

“O-oh.” He hadn’t had this much fun riling someone up in ages. The stranger tried again. Luca knew his own expression wasn’t particularly welcoming, as he felt a sardonic tilt to his lips and his head. “Pardon me for saying this, but you don’t seem like a minstrel.”

That drew Luca up short.

“What?” he said, trying not to look or sound surprised.

The poor thing probably thought he was offended because he flushed and said, “I apologize, that didn’t come out quite right. I mean to say that you played like a troubadour rather than a minstrel. I recognize that song; I’ve heard it at the Court of Love.”

Luca peered a little more closely at him. This time, he noted the fine features and pale skin (so unlike the tan that so many of laborers bore), accentuated by the sober blue of his cloak. Though well-used, they were made finely.

“May I know how to address you?”

“Elias Goldstein,” he replied. “And you?”

“Luca Orlem.” He paused and looked him over critically. “I suppose you’re an actual Goldstein.”

Elias blinked, somewhat taken aback. “I thought you wouldn’t believe me. No one I’ve met so far seems to think so.”

Luca chuckled. “It’s a bit shocking but that crest on your handkerchief is quite distinctive; it’s not the first time I’ve seen it. As you so astutely pointed out, I’ve seen it at the Court of Love. I believe it was your brother’s wedding?”

Elias nodded, but not before plucking at the handkerchief sticking out of his traveler’s satchel. He seemed at once irritated by this sign of his own sloth and impressed that Luca had verified the truth through such a small detail. “Yes, my brother married the Queen’s ward, Lady Elaine.”

“A noble girl,” he said. “He has good taste.”

Luca watched him puff up with indignation before he saw Luca’s expression and deflated again. It was adorable, like watching a baby kitten trying to be angry. Elias sighed.

“I wanted to ask how you received your instruction,” Elias said.

“The usual method,” smirked Luca, but his memory flashed traitorously to a cold stone tower, an empty room, and books. A worn, nearly broken down lute in a cabinet. Birds trilling in the early morning and the loneliness of watching the sun march unbroken across the cobbled floor. “I had a good teacher. But that isn’t what you really want to ask, is it?”

Elias flushed again, this time a noticeable deep red color that looked very fetching on him. “No, it isn’t,” he admitted, before taking a deep breath and saying, “I’m curious why someone with your skill is performing as a minstrel here,” he gestured at the tavern’s humble wooden construction, “when you could be performing for a lord or lady.”

So this Goldstein scion wasn’t just some spineless rich boy. Luca found he admired that honesty in a jaded sort of way; he’d seen too often what a lack of diplomacy could do. “I like the audience is all,” he shrugged. “They appreciate me more.”

When Elias found that Luca wouldn’t say more, he didn’t press. He did, however, say this, “My other brother – Klaus – is getting married too. I’m looking for a good troubadour, or minstrel, for the wedding feast. He likes creativity so he’s not very fond of the usual court fare. I would like to invite you, if you’re agreeable. I’ll be here tomorrow morning as well, so let me know what you think then.”

He bowed, once, then turned and disappeared into the suite of rooms above the tavern. Luca turned back to the fire thoughtfully.

A very honest man, Elias Goldstein. He’d heard much about the Goldstein family; for all that merchants were deemed ‘lower’ than nobility, they were more important than Dukes to the royal family. They held the moneybags and controlled a good portion of the trade in Gedonelune. They were fair, too. The oldest was set up to carry on the family business, but middle brother had decided to wade into something new – banking, if Luca recalled correctly. There wasn’t much news about the youngest brother, only that he was as brilliant and princely as the rest. The people certainly liked the Goldsteins more than the royal family. They were visible and surprisingly good to those they dealt with, provided there was nothing shady going on.

Luca couldn’t say he disagreed. His time at court soured the experience for him. He had had enough of petty manipulations and useless bloodlines. Let all that ancestry rot in the catacombs. He wasn’t especially eager to get anywhere near it again, even if it was only a Goldstein wedding and it was unlikely that any royal guests might attend.

Still, he couldn’t stop thinking of Elias and the way he’d so frankly laid out his terms. It was unexpectedly refreshing, and so the next morning Luca strode up to Elias’ table where he was holding muzzily onto a mug of some hot liquid and accepted his offer.

He considered the charming way Elias spluttered a plus.

**Author's Note:**

> So in this ‘verse, Luca is a secret prince – a bastard prince, actually – who ran away from court to go minstrel-ing around the countryside. The Goldstein family is a powerhouse merchant family; they’re like the Medici family.


End file.
